Silent Observer
by Desdemona85
Summary: She doesn’t get involved, she just observes. And maybe fears a bit...


** This I had lying around for a week already so... I am becoming a bit too fond of Sulpicia and her POV, I guess. But it's fun to write a different kind if character from Jane and Aro. And since I enjoy my fair share of mythology... I used a little mythical creature... a corespondent of the Slavic wili(the notions are actually different but often used as alike in Romantism so... )**

She smiles bitterly watching the all too familiar scene unfolding before her eyes. It is the same for centuries already.

Jane has just returned from a mission. Victorious! How else?

She knows as everyone else that the missions Jane is sent to are devastating and lethal.

The Volturi don't send Jane to those who can redeem themselves. They don't send Jane to those worth keeping.

Jane is the carrier of a simple message: 'The Volturi don't give second chances!' She is never sent with a peace or recruiting offer. That usually falls upon Demetri or Felix, even Heidi.

Jane is simply the beautiful messenger of death and destruction.

It must be quite a view though, she often imagines it. Like a surreal painting, static, solemn, beautiful, in a way… the guard and Jane bathed in reddish sunset light, delivering death to those who broke the rules. Mercilessly. Coldly. Quietly.

She gives it a second thought… not coldly. Probably never coldly, Jane never struck her as cold. It's her warmth and fire that brought _him_ in her arms, didn't it? And went... like a moth to the flame…

Yet she concentrates again on her mental painting. On Jane. Such a beautiful angelic girl… No, no! Not a girl. Girl is somewhat inappropriate. Jane is far from childish, she knows that much. Perhaps young woman would be a more appropriate term… or even better, child-woman.

Jane the child-woman, with her angelic face, her lithe ballerina figure and black clothes and cloak marching in front of the Volturi guard as their incontestable leader that she is. Leader of the guard. Her, the youngest of them all, technically of course, for actually she is quite a few centuries old.

She often wonders what their enemies feel when they see her. Are they amazed, bewitched by her beauty? An angel. How many of their kind haven't thought of her as one seeing her porcelain features, her wide expressive eyes…that until they were writhing at her feet in pain. For the girl is beautiful beyond belief.

This actually almost annoys her. Her beauty. It's hard to define what exactly makes frail-looking little Jane so incredibly beautiful. Perhaps it is that mixture of innocent and feminine, hidden sensuality, of angelic and demonic, things that make her such a fascinating creature.

Of course the child woman is far from Sulpicia's own statuesque beauty. In fact they are so different that she almost laughs the mere thought of someone comparing the two of them.

But she is observant enough to understand quickly the young sylph is her only rival.

Sylph seems the perfect term to describe Jane. An air nymph or a lost soul of a young woman who died before the prime of her life. Of a violent death.

It's almost funny how the witch girl fits the myth. Hasn't she almost died burnt at the stake at fourteen?

_He_ had told once that Jane and Alec were fourteen when he had to turn them.

There was a strange mixture of affection and regret in his voice that she had only later discovered the meaning of.

It was not regret for Jane's unfair eternity, not just that, it was regret for his own loss as well. It was a time when_ he_ was still reasonable enough to understand that the sylph was untouchable. It is not the case now.

Sulpicia smiles incredulously as the two share their usual light kiss on the lips. An unquestionable, innocent display of affection and a way for _him_ to know in matter of seconds how her mission went.

Again she feels like laughing out loud at everyone's naivety. The only thing stopping her is looking insane. So she doesn't laugh, just keeps the bitterly amused smile on her lips.

Come to think of it, she had almost fallen for that a long time ago… a long, long time ago.

She can see beneath the pretenses now, she can see his lips lingering just a moment too long on the sylph's full ones. She sees the sylph smiling her little smile for him as he pulls away, bewitching, promising, seductive.

Or maybe she knows them both to well since all these things are lost to everyone besides her.

Both her husband and the witch girl are emotional, obsessive and possessive way beyond the safe limits. One very disciplined and weary, cunning and deceiving, the other wild, untamed and warm and honest, as the fire that almost ended her when she was still a frail human. Before _he_ claimed her. For that is what he did, claimed a mate, not saved a simple talented guard. Of course, he refused to see it back then.

It was later on when the no longer unaware and innocent sylph has claimed him and how was he to fight that?

How was she, his lawful wedded wife to fight his mate?

So she didn't. Why would she have?

She needn't such complications. Instead she silently observes them, dancing their lethally dangerous dance.

The two of them are more alike then they would like to be, or like to acknowledge, _him_ and his sylph, and yet such opposites.

She looks at them from her place next to the window, tilting her head, like a painter studying his models.

_They're beautiful_, she muses.

_He _chose to ignore and even avoid emotion while she willingly and passionately embraced it, letting it define her.

But ignorance led him nowhere. He's fallen in the sylph's possibly deadly embrace didn't he?

Again the similarities between Jane and the mythical creature startle her. Sylphs lead their lovers to perdition for their embrace is that of death, of death and damnation.

And wouldn't that happen to _him_ if his love affair with the witch girl was to surface?

Wouldn't he be an easy target to his enemies… their enemies. She has to accept that she might as well go down if _he_ and his empire were to fall. On account of a girl.

Ironic, wouldn't it be? And she's not even Helen of Troy. No that image is more likely to resemble to her rather than to the witch girl.

All one would need is destroy Jane. It would surely ruin _him._ It's how things work for their kind. She saw it with her own eyes, she saw what Didyme's death did to Marcus.

Mates are one soul, one mind. Destroy one and you destroy both. She knows it sounds stupid and ridiculous but it's the truth.

Of course, she admits to herself knowing of them and helping to cover it was a blow to her pride.

She isn't a hypocrite. She never loved _him_ and never claimed to and knew from the very start neither did he. He never tried to convince her otherwise. And she honestly appreciated that.

That never stopped them from having a viable, long lasting and solid alliance. Nor she denied the affection and like they had for each other. She chose him for he was powerful and she knew she was beautiful and smart enough to keep up with him. And they made a beautiful couple, didn't they?

One that was broken to start with but still beautiful. Like two pieces of jewelry that never matched or fitted together but yet looked awkwardly beautiful.

She smiles at that. They still fool everyone, besides Marcus of course.

And she still has the power, she is still the wife. She thanks heavens the sylph is still too young in everybody's eyes. Or else her position might be threatened.

Or not. _He_ knows better than to put his beloved out there on the line, a sure target.

And whatever he does with his sylph is their own business as long as they don't make a fool out of her.

She almost feels some sort of affection for them… not real affection though. More like the kind of affection one would feel for two lovable characters of a book. And they are so lovely in a way… the tragic lovers always are irresistibly lovable. But that doesn't make them less tragic, nor helps them from ending up in misery.

And she really doesn't want to take part in that, to add to their unavoidable misery.

It's not like they bother her, they do try to play safe but it's passed the safe part long ago.

It used to be safe when the sylph loved him secretly and he pretended not to know of it. But once they couldn't play the charade anymore…

He was always fascinated by the sylph, ever since he found her in that god forsaken village. Who would've guessed what his fascination would turn to?

She feels better calling her this way… the sylph, she feels better calling him, _he_ rather than using their names. Names mean real persons, names mean attachment and she can't get too attached now, can she?

They will fall sooner or later and she would rather not feel sorry or grief for them, her lovable characters of a book. A very captivating book, actually. Too bad there is no happy ending. She would love a happy ending from time to time.

But there is nothing she can do so instead she watches their story unfold before her eyes. As a silent observer.

She smiles and walks to take her place at his side, though he was never hers, though she knows he would rather have his sylph at his side for eternity. But show must go on. So she plays her part in the masquerade.

"Welcome back, Jane, dear!" she greets. But it sounds fake and cold. Maybe it's just her.

"Thank you, mistress." The crystal voice of the sylph replies. She manages to sound warm and genuine. But she is fire, isn't she?

And what reasons would the sylph have to sound fake? She knows he is hers. The sylph knows the wife will return to her tower later on leaving him to her.

But that doesn't mean anyone else should know. Or that Sulpicia would ever make a drama out of it. The only drama here is the lovers'

She doesn't get involved, she just observes. And maybe fears a bit, that the little sylph and her fire will burn them all down one day.


End file.
